


6 Rules on How to be A Better Boyfriend

by BlindBandit44



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frustrated Sherlock, Horny Sherlock, Jealous John, M/M, Oblivious John, Romantic Sherlock, Sexual Frustration, progressively more and more horny and frustrated sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindBandit44/pseuds/BlindBandit44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock told John once that relationships aren't his area. So to make this more comfortable and easy going, John writes Sherlock some rules to help him be a good boyfriend.</p>
<p>Or, in other words, 5 times Sherlock buggers up Johns rules for romance in his quest to get laid, and one time John finally gets the hint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Date Night

Rule #1:  
Dinner and a movie is the best 'go-to' for date night. But if you can't cook, be sure to know a good place that can.

____

I'm lying on the couch, fingers steepled under my chin. If John walked in he would surely assume I was simply retreated away in my mind palace, which, I suppose, isn't entirely untrue. But not exactly for the reasons John would normally think.

I’m counting seconds, of course. John left the flat 18,245 seconds ago. I remember him vaguely telling me not to lie on the couch all day and to _'bloody well do something you git!'_ , but John never really understood when I told him it's difficulty to keep track of seconds when I do experiments or compose.

18,362 seconds; 5 hours and 6 minutes. Dull. Counting seconds is never quite as fulfilling as I make it out to be. But I only seem to resort to it when John is away, so it seems this is actually his fault. At least when John is here with me in the flat I can catalog him.  
Like, the way his hair always seems softer after he's just woken up, versus the sloppy tousle his hair has just after work. Or how his bum always seems to look better in a pair of jeans rather than his tan trousers. And, my personal favorite, how he seems to smell sweeter while he's sleeping compared to after a case.

18,501; 5 hours, 8 minutes, 20 seconds. Seconds. Seconds are boring. John Watson is not boring. I wish he were here, he could give me something to focus on that isn’t excruciatingly long seconds. Each one seems to roll along at a snails pace.

What would John do if he were here, I wonder? Probably watch some telly, or maybe cook dinner. Or maybe we would get take away? John loves take away, and his breath always seems to have the lingering aroma of orange chicken for hours, even after we’ve already finished eating. But I don't really mind that, and when John places a quick kiss on my lips, it tastes just as sweet.

18,664; 5 hours, 11 minutes, 2 seconds. Quick kisses are nice and all. Especially when John has eaten or drank something pleasant. But what I really want is something more. Specifically more John. John promised me 38 days, 3 hours, 7 minutes, and 29 seconds (marginal error of possibly +/- 3 seconds) ago that we could go slow in our new relationship, and John wouldn't push me to do anything that makes me uncomfortable.

But, the problem is, I don't want to go slow anymore, and I do want to feel uncomfortable. With John. I want the hairs on the back of my neck to stick up when John deepens his usual quick kiss. I want electricity to shiver down my spine when John moans into my mouth. And I want my knees to suddenly give out when Johns tongue explores the ins and outs of my mouth.

I want to know what it feels like when John traces nonsensical patterns on my inner thigh. How I will feel when John grabs the small of my back to pull himself impossibly closer to me. I want to know the difference between what it feels like to be kissed below my ear or kissed along my neck.

But how do I obtain this new data? Surely through a practical experiment. Ordinary people must have a name for experimental socialization?

Ah, yes, of course. Stupid, John calls it a date. In hindsight it sounds simple enough. Surely I could make an edible enough meal and find a movie we would both like on the telly.

Dates usually end in sex, right? Approximately 64.7 percent of Johns dates pre our relationship ended in sex. Of course, of that 64.7 percent, 88.2 percent were typical ‘one night stands’. That's a fairly low percent in my favor, but surely my percent range would increase given that John and I have been in a committed relationship for more than a month? And John hasn’t gotten a leg over in more than three times that, he’s got to be feeling up to it too. With all the given data, I would say I have between a 74.8 percent to 81.3 percent chance. 

I’ll take those odds! I use the excuse to finally remove myself off the couch and search the kitchen. 

The fridge is awful, the baggy of toes seems to have gone bad, making everything in there inedible I’m sure. A quick glance around shows half a loaf of bread on the counter, opened and most likely stale. A container of week old take away in the sink, along with the rest of the weeks worth of dirty dishes. Opening some of the cabinets show an unopened package of chocolate biscuits, 12 tea packets, two can of beans, a cans of tomato paste, and a bag of pasta. 

Pasta and tomato paste, that’s pretty much what spaghetti is, John loves spaghetti (pretty sure that's John? Maybe not John… Maybe not spaghetti). 

I grab a pot and fill it with water, setting it on the stove to boil as I go into the bedroom to change out of my pajamas. I pick a clean pair of trousers and a plain white shirt. I quickly run my fingers through my hair before deeming it good enough.

I head back out to the kitchen to finish cooking dinner. I quickly found boiling water and cooking noodles take a lot longer than I intended them it to be. I don’t have the patience to sit here all night, so once the noodles were bending in a proper fashion, I drained the water and divided the noodles onto two plates. I then opened the can of tomato paste and divided that as well, but the tiny can didn’t do much. It was thick and really not enough sauce for two plates. But I’m sure it will taste fine. 

I had just started the kettle for tea when I heard the door down stairs open, and John making his way up the steps. 

“Oh, you did actually get off the couch today. I’m impressed.” John stated, walking into the kitchen to join me. “What’s all this, then?” 

“I’ve made dinner.” I stated, grabbing two clean mugs and two tea bags. 

“Ah.” John grunts, looking over at my plates of spaghetti.

“That didn’t sound nearly as impressed as me getting off the couch.” I scoff, looking over at the spaghetti as well.

“No, no!” John reassures. “It looks, uh, fine. I’m sure its really nice.”

I smile and hand John his tea, taking my own tea and dinner and head towards the couch. “I thought we could find a movie playing on the telly.” I call out to John, who cautiously follows me into the sofa.

“What’s this about, Sherlock?” John asks once he’s sat down next to me.

“It’s a date. That’s what people do, don’t they?” I say keeping my voice light, and taking a big bite of spaghetti.

Which turns out to be bloody awful. Whomever made tomato paste clearly didn’t understand the differences between their product and tomato sauce! And along with my clearly under cooked noodles, it tastes nothing like any spaghetti I’ve ever had. I spit out the offending meal and quickly down about half my tea, which, really, was again, not my best idea. The tea was still extremely hot and felt like swallowing fire.

“Ahrg!” I exclaim, dropping the tea mug on the table, running to get some water to cool my burning tongue and throat. After I’ve drank about a liter of water before I hear Johns laughter coming in from his place on the sofa. “Are you laughing at me?” I yell into the living room, walking in to face John.

“Sorry,” John says, more than a little breathless. “But Jesus, that was funny!”

I can feel the tips of my ears turning red, and I just glare down at John instead of actually answering.

“Maybe I should just order in, yeah?” He asks, standing up and abandoning his dinner. “I’ll just take a shower, why don’t you clean up your mess and we’ll get some real food when you’re feeling up to it.” John leaves the room, headed to the bathroom, still chuckling softly to himself. 

Well, _that_ did not go as planned.


	2. How to Flirt

Rule #2:  
Flirting for “The Work” or personal experiments, is still flirting. And if they flirt back, it will only be worse for you.

____

I’ve been looking at this same slide for hours, the bloody microscope is starting to hurt my eyes. I mean, seriously, I know I can really submerge myself in my work when needed, but does John really think I can just sit here, unblinking for two and a half hours looking at one algae slide? 

I need John to get bored, leave my side for maybe ten minutes. That’s the real reason we came to Barts today. 

Or more, I came to Barts and John followed. I need to practice my flirting, because apparently I’m shit at it. I had read online that flirting was straight forward enough. Try to maintain eye contact, laugh at whatever John says, and try to touch skin on skin. 

Either John requires a different technique, or that website was wrong on all accords because John did not appreciate my flirting last night. 

I still don’t quite understand what was so upsetting to him. It’s not as if John is new to my personality quirks. And really, it wasn’t even a quirk, I was just trying to get into Johns pants (so to speak). You think John would appreciate that, seeing as, generally speaking, his libido is higher than mine. 

John had come home last night. I could tell from the wrinkling formation on his jumper that his day at the surgery had been smoother than most, and that usually means John is in a better mood than most days. Good mood, easy day at work, that means sex! I was quite excited, so I decided to ‘put the moves’ on him. 

I met John in the kitchen as he was making us tea. “Did you clean up your experiment from last night out of the bathtub?” He asked me just as he put the kettle on. 

I gave a low chuckle, almost sultry (or at least that’s what I had been aiming for), and placed my hand on John’s shoulder, trying to catch his eye.

“What, is that a no?” John asked, not even looking over at me, grabbing to mugs out of the cabinet above him.

“John.” I breath, attempting to keep my voice low and sex driven. 

John finally looked in my direction, giving me a strange look. “It’s really not that difficult of a question, if you’re going to make me walk over to the bathroom to check-”

I interrupted John with another laugh, running my hand down Johns arm, still looking into those dark blue eyes of his. 

“For Gods sake Sherlock!” John nearly exploded, pushing my hand off of his arm. “Fine, fine! I’ll just go have a look. Your way. You couldn’t possibly be bothered to just talk to me.” 

I follow John into the bathroom, still hoping to seduce him to make the extra few steps into my bedroom. At least we’re closer than we were before, I count this as progress. I hear John give a heavy sigh as he saw my experiment still in the tub. A head and a foot, separated by a barrier and completely submerged in water.

“John you should kiss me.” I say, going for the straight forward approach. And, apparently, that is wrong in this situation. Because without any sort of preamble or explanation, John left the bathroom, finished making his tea, and went up to his room for the rest of the night. Leaving me bored, without tea, and (although I’ll never admit it) aching for John’s touch.

Which leads us back to the present, with me, looking over a microscope slide I could really care less about, and John standing beside me looking completely bored out of his mind but refusing to leave. And Molly waiting hesitantly in the room because I told her hours ago I would need her. 

Things are not going to plan and I’m almost ready to call it quits. But I’m hoping in the next half hour John will require more coffee and leave to get us some. 

And, just my luck, in ten minutes and four seconds, John lets out a deep sigh and finally gets off his chair. “I’m going to get some coffee, you guys want some?” 

“You know how I take mine.” I say flatly, still keeping my position at the microscope, even though a surge of energy flows through my veins.

“Yes, thank you John. Black with a splash of cream.” Molly says, giving John a shy smile.

I continue looking at my boring slide until I’m sure John is gone, and then put on my best smile. Directed specifically at Molly. “Ah, Molly.” I say, lowering the pitch of my voice and smoothing out its edges. “I could use your help now.” I practically purr. And the results are quite remarkable, really.

The tips of Molly’s ears, and across her porcelain cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink, while she looks down at her toes and walks forward. “O-oh, okay.” She squeaks, her voice catching in her throat.

“Could you hand me the belladonna slide in the drawer over there?” I ask sweetly, lowering my lashes and giving my best ‘puppy dog’ eyes I can muster.

_‘Oh!’_ Molly barely whispers, giving a quick nod and scurrying off to the other side of the room. Once she actually makes it to the drawer, I can see Molly’s hands shaking as she fumbles through the collection of slides, finally grabbing one and turning around. But apparently just the act of watching her has the same effect. Molly's eyes catch my own, and she makes some sort of yelping sound before tripping over something, and just catching herself with the table.The action making her whole face and neck turn bright red as she makes her way back over to me.

When Molly hands me the slide, I make sure our fingers graze ever so slightly over one another, releasing a shiver from the bottom of Molly’s spine. “Thank you, Molly.” I say, stretching out both syllables in her name, giving a toothy grin and a seductive look with my eyes. 

I revel in the amount of success I’m having with this. So much so that I’m worried Molly may no longer count as a control group in my efforts to seduce John. But perhaps there is still something to be learned here. “Molly, could you take a look at this slide for me?” 

“S-sure.” Molly just barely squeaks again, taking my spot on my stool as I get up. As Molly looks into the microscope, I place myself just behind her so I can observe what she’s doing and how she’s reacting, but careful not to touch her. I may be experimenting with flirtation, but in the back of my mind I know anything more than an innocent brush of hands is going to far, and that’s not fair to John.

“What do you see?” I whisper in her ear, and I can almost feel the heat radiating off her skin as the blush across the back of her neck deepens once again.

“I-I-I” Molly stutters, unable to give a coherent answer. I’m rather proud of myself, I’ve almost gotten her into a state of mental incapacity, and I’m just starting to wonder to myself how far I can push the boundaries of Molly’s mind when John walks back into the room with three cups of coffee.

“Okay, I’ve got-” And that’s as much as John gets out before I casually straighten my back, looking at John innocently, as Molly falls out of her chair, hitting the ground with a yelp of surprise.

“J-John! Hi! I, uhm, I really have to go.” Molly stutters, her voice high pitched and strained. “Th-thank you so much for the coffee.”

“Oh, uh, yeah sure.” John says, looking at her with a look of confusion as she scampers out the the room, taking the cup of coffee from John on her way out.

As soon as the door clicks shut, John whips his head around, giving me the death glare of all death glares. “What have you done to that poor girl?”

“Me?” I say, trying to sound as victimized as possible. “I haven’t done anything. We were simply looking at these belladonna slides.” 

“No, Sherlock. She’s looked like she’s seen a ghost. And Molly only ever looks like that when you take your little experiments to far. What have you done?”

“It was nothing, John.” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“Did you experiment _on_ her?” John nearly yells. “Sherlock, we’ve talked about this. Other people aren’t as nice as I am about being experimented on.”

“You’re not very nice about it either.” I say, my bottom lip pouting out on its own accord.

“Yeah.” John growls, finally setting down the coffee and taking a step into my personal space. Oh, how exciting, that definitely good news! “So imagine why Molly fell off her bloody chair and ran out of the room!”

I give a big smile, liking how close John is to me. I take a brave step further, the smile on my lips widening. “I was only practicing on her.” I say sweetly. Reaching my hand out to run it along John’s bicep, looking into his eyes through my eyelashes. “I wanted it to be perfect for you, you didn’t like it the first time.” I say, adding just a touch of a whimper to my voice as I purposefully pout out my bottom lip.

“What?” John says, still sounding confused. “What were you ‘perfecting’?”

“My flirting.” I say matter-of-factly. “You didn’t like it when I flirted with you the other day, so I practiced on Molly.”

John lets out a heavy sigh as he steps away from me. I give him a questioning look, wondering why he isn’t as impressed with my new skills as Molly was. “Sherlock. We’re going home. Now.” John says, his voice sounding more defeated than anything.

“Why? For sex?” I ask, my face lighting up again.

“No, Sherlock. Because I’m done here. Grab your coffee.”

“I don’t understand.” I say to John, stepping closer to him once again.

“Sherlock, that’s not how flirting works, okay? You’re not supposed to practice on other people. You’re supposed to practice on me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen the first time. But lets just go home alright? Obviously you’re done here.”

John doesn’t even wait for a response, grabbing his coffee and heading out the door before I can think of something to say. So, instead I just follow him out of Barts, looking like a lost puppy with its tail caught between its legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long delay on this! My last half of last term was just awful! But, better late than never, I hope!

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this because I had some extra time in between classes and felt like writing some cute and fluffy Johnlock :3
> 
> Not beta'd or britpicked!


End file.
